“You’re the one that I want, you’re the vol-au-vol-au-vent. Ooh ooh ooh.” Every night, over the river, behind the Buddhist pagoda, actors who haven’t got good enough credit rating to ever get a mortgage are loudly exhibiting skill and passion to large crowds of people via the medium of “Grease, the Immersive Experience”. Someone is sitting on a pile of gold but they aren’t the ones singing in the rain tonight.
I’m home. It’s dark. I’m sad but only because it’s dark. I’ve put my electric blanket on to warm the bed up. I guess the world has decided to do seasons this year. It did summer in summer so I can’t be too bitter at it for doing autumn in autumn. I’m hoping it’ll draw the line before doing winter in winter. It feels like it was only a few months ago that I was thrilled about the arrival of summer and I’m not done with it yet. Damn. I’ll have to pick up a new skill to slow time down again, it is supposed to stay nice until my birthday dammit.
Coming up to a year ago today we were starting rehearsal at the RSC and I was allowing myself to believe that maybe things would start to get a little easier for a bit. I guess I’m not having to sing songs in a park for £15 an hour, but there really is no momentum in this business, it sucks, I could use a point of focus, something to look forward to… I’ve got The Factory, and I’ve got this Julius Caesar which I can’t really overlook I guess. This weekend, two shows, and it’s a lovely bunch of people and a wonderful part in a very special and historic place in terms of the modern history of Elizabethan Theatre in this country.
Lou was in town briefly looking fabulous. I met her on the way to rehearsal in Shepherd’s Bush for a coffee. She had been on Goldhawk Road. I’m looking forward to spending a bit more time with her once I’m done Shakespearing but one thing at a time. Hopefully by then my back won’t hate me anymore. Every day a little better.
AlBarclay 